Don’t name that baby girl Karen!

Always a good day when you learn a new word. My new word of the day is Karen. If you already know what a Karen is—notice, it is what, not who—I’m sorry for being late to the party. Apparently, the term has been in slang usage for some time. A Karen is a middle-aged, privileged, entitled white woman. You know her, she calls the police on a black family picnicking in the park or a young black girl selling cold drinks on the sidewalk.

I saw the term this morning in an article entitled, “Karen” isn’t going “wild.” She’s just being documented. The article began by comparing the term to the use of the N-word, saying both are offensive. Minutes later, I read an account of a white woman and black man who tangled verbally in Central Park when he, a dedicated bird watcher, asked her to leash her unruly dog. It escalated, she called the police and, according to the report, lunged at him, breaking social distancing. The man was later quoted as saying, “Her inner Karen came out.” Police came, no summonses were issued, but by evening “Karen” had been temporarily furloughed from her job and asked to surrender her dog to the rescue group from which she got it. Now that’s a word I already knew: Karma.

Later today I saw a clip about a middle-aged, overweight white woman, with unkempt hair, yelling at a Mexican family for playing Mexican music in the park. Maybe they should have played “Degüello.”

Don’t name your new baby Karen (with apologies to the only Karen I know who is a really good person).

We resumed our weekly ladies’ happy hour tonight with neighbors Mary Dulle and Prudence Zavala—so good to see these ladies again. We sat distanced, and everyone brought their own drinks. Mary brought individual appetizer plates for each of us, and Pru brought each a canister of piroulines—great dessert tonight. We sent them home with bags of chocolate mints—the good kind you sometimes get on restaurant plates, and a bag of corks for Mary who swears someday she will do something with them. During this quarantine, I’m trying to guilt her into it by supplying lots of corks. Jordan plans an early morning trip to Central Market tomorrow and so asked each of the ladies what they needed. That’s how the world works these days—going to the store? Check with your neighbors. Sitting on the patio was so pleasant—no bugs, though Pru brought her bug zapper—lovely temperature, slight breeze, a perfect evening.

Now Christian is fixing Mongolian beef, and Jordan has put Louella’s rice in my toaster oven. We will have a good dinner—and I’m hungry.

Stay safe and well, everyone.